A Well Kept Secret
by Regina Noctis
Summary: Lily Potter, lead Gryffindor Chaser and top of her class. Ilia Zabini, star Slytherin Seeker and as hot as they come. They watch and admire each other, but neither knows of the other's attraction. After all, what's wrong with a little well-kept secret?


Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Potterverse that belongs to JK Rowling (which is everything). Written for Dicey's "Can You Handle It?" challenge on the HPFF forums. My assignment: Write a Lily II/OC fic with the title, "A Well-Kept Secret."

* * *

She just couldn't take her eyes off of him.

During History of Magic, as Professor Binns droned on and on about how goblins had overwhelmed wizards during one of the nameless goblin rebellions, the eyes of one Lily Potter would inexorably drift to one boy's back, no matter how far away it started. It was annoying, to say the least. She refused to admit that she fancied him, though. It would have been sensational throughout the school if she had: Lily Potter, the daughter of the Saviour of the Wizarding World, had a crush on someone like _him?!_

He was a Slytherin, tall and dark-skinned with amber eyes and golden hair. His father was a Slytherin before him, an Italian-born Moor from her father's class who had grown up to be the most successful entrepreneur in Wizarding Europe. His mother was a graduate of Durmstrang, a Russian model for Witch Weekly whose family had openly supported both Grindelwald and Voldemort in their respective wars. Ilia Zabini had inherited his father's color and his mother's ravishing good looks, making him the hottest player on the Slytherin Quidditch team. He wasn't a half-bad Seeker, either; he would often run the Gryffindor team in circles, much to Lily's chagrin, as _she_ was their captain and Chaser.

But somehow, she was attracted to him. Whether it was due to his looks, or his Quidditch skills, or just because he was a "bad boy" whom her family would hate for her to be associated with…Lily Potter was drawn to him like the proverbial moth to the flame.

And yet, she would often think, it's not like Ilia Zabini would spare a thought for a bookish (albeit athletic) Gryffindor such as herself. What could be the harm in just—watching?

* * *

He thought she was absolutely beautiful.

Ilia Zabini would often observe her from the shadows of the Quidditch pitch as the Gryffindor team practiced, watching as she flew across the sky like a pro, gracefully passing the Quaffle back and forth to her teammates, executing maneuvers that many Slytherin Chasers would literally sell their soul to perform as easily. In fact, he watched her so often that the Slytherin Quidditch Captain had threatened to replace _him_, Ilia Zabini, the youngest Seeker at Hogwarts since Harry Potter, with a reserve during Gryffindor-Slytherin games, as he had nearly missed the Snitch several times when a certain audacious redhead had chosen to veer uncomfortably close by.

She was a Gryffindor, petite and pretty with sparkling green eyes and red hair. Her father was the famous Harry Potter, a Gryffindor through and through from his father's year who had saved the Wizarding World from total annihilation under Voldemort's reign. Her mother was a Weasley, a Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies before Lily was born whose family was the largest group of blood-traitors he had ever seen. Lily Potter had inherited her father's talent and mother's temper, making her the best (and most ruthless) Chaser that Team Gryffindor had had to offer in many years. She wasn't a half-bad student, either; she would often take the highest scores in her year, much to Ilia's chagrin, as _he_ was the top student in Slytherin House.

But somehow, he was attracted to her. Whether it was due to her intelligence, or her Quidditch skills, or just because she was a "good girl" from a long line of blood-traitors and half-bloods (her paternal grandmother was Muggleborn, for crying out loud!)…Ilia Zabini was drawn to her like a honeybee to the sweet flower.

And yet, he would often tell himself, it wasn't like Lily Potter was hurting for boyfriends; with her father's good name, she could have anyone she pleased. What could be the harm in just—dreaming?

* * *

And so, they watched each other and waited, dancing around each other in an intricate tango for five long years, until one freezing winter morning in mid-January, during the final Gryffindor-Slytherin match of the Quidditch season.

Lily couldn't understand why Madam Hooch had insisted that playing in the middle of a small blizzard was perfectly acceptable. Granted, it was a small one, but it was still a blizzard. Snow swirled around their faces, making it nearly impossible to see beyond a few dozen feet. Her team was having an especially hard time: Was that flash of crimson a Quaffle or a team member? If there was any Snitch to be caught, it would have to fly smack into the face of either Seeker first—and from the fact that the game had been going on for five hours and was not over yet, that didn't look like a likely scenario.

_Thank Merlin for Warming Charms,_ Lily was thinking once again when she barely ducked in time to let a Bludger pass over her head. She turned to see where the Bludger was headed next—

And was just in time to see the wide-eyed fear etched into Ilia Zabini's face as the Bludger pelted towards him.

Even worse, there was another Bludger hurtling at him from the opposite direction.

There was a sickening crunch as the first Bludger struck him head-on in the chest. He doubled over with a wrenching cry of pain—Lily guessed that his ribs were broken—but somehow managed to cling to his broom for dear life. And then, instead of adding to his abdominal injuries as it initially would have, the second Bludger struck him in the back of the head with a wet cracking sound.

Lily watched in what seemed like slow-motion as Ilia's eyes rolled into the back of his head; and he slid off of his broom limply, his fingers slipping from the broom handle as he plummeted down to the pitch, several hundred yards away. She knew that if he made it to the icy ground in that state, he'd most likely not make it to the Hospital Wing alive.

She didn't remember screaming, but her teammates later informed her that she did, loud enough to have the entire stadium and both teams look in her direction. Her oldest brother, James, the Gryffindor Seeker, was particularly fond of describing it later as "a girly shriek." But not even her insufferable prat of a brother could poke fun at what she did next.

She pointed the handle of her Firebolt XM nearly perpendicular to the ground and proceeded to follow the path of Ilia's body. The Firebolt's high speed range and exquisite control served her well, as she caught up with Ilia mere feet before impact. Lily grabbed the unconscious Slytherin by the arm, wincing as she felt his shoulder come out of the socket—but that would be the least of his worries, as he would at least still be _alive._

Without waiting another second, and ignoring the shouts coming at her from all directions, Lily pulled Ilia into her arms and zoomed off to the Hospital Wing at breakneck speed, leaving a trail of snowflakes spinning in her wake.

* * *

Darkness. Heaviness. Pain.

These sensations swam about his head as he lay on something ethereally soft. Ilia wasn't sure if he was dead or not; from what he remembered, he very well should have been, after getting hit with a Bludger to the head, for Merlin's sake!

So, he did the only thing he could. He opened his eyes, or what he thought were his eyes. It felt like pulling apart two blocks of magically-sealed stone, but he managed it.

He just wasn't ready for what he saw.

He was in the Hospital Wing, in a private bed separated from the others by a floor-length curtain. Dozing in an armchair, her red hair hanging over her face and black glasses askew, sat Lily Potter, the very first girl he had ever fancied.

As he stared, trying to convince himself that he _must_ have died and gone to heaven, the girl in the chair sat upright with a start. She shook her hair away from her eyes to find Ilia staring right back at her. Ilia immediately felt himself blush and averted his gaze.

"Zabini." Her voice was soft, with a sweet ring that made him feel dizzy every time she asked a question in Gryffindor-Slytherin Potions. "Took you long enough. I've been here for _ages._"

Ilia licked his lips, finding them parched. "How long?" he croaked. "What happened?"

"It's been two whole days now," she said, a worry line creasing her brow. "You had a fractured skull, a dislocated shoulder, and internal bleeding from that Bludger to your chest. Madam Pomfrey wasn't sure—" Her voice cracked. "Wasn't sure if you were going to make it or not."

Ilia closed his eyes. _I almost died? Really?_ He was only fifteen and a few months…it was a shocking concept, to be dead after such a short life, once you took it out of jest. And then, one of Lily's words struck him as strange. "Potter?" he slowly asked, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. "Why do I have a dislocated shoulder? The Bludger didn't do that, did it?"

Lily blushed to the roots of her red hair; Ilia remembered his father saying that it was Nature's misfortune to grant the Weasleys with both shocking red hair and the capacity to blush to the same hue. "Um…about that. I had to grab _something_ before you hit the ground—I think it came when I was using your arm as an anchor."

Ilia blinked. Come to think of it, the last thing he remembered before passing out was seeing Lily's horrified face several yards away. "_You?_ You saved me? But—why?"

"Erm…" Lily shifted in her chair, looking very uncomfortable. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but…" She furtively glanced to both sides before leaning forward until her lips just brushed his ear. Ilia inhaled deeply as the flowery perfume from her hair cascaded over him. _If only I could stay that way forever_…but his thoughts were interrupted by her timid whisper.

"I think—I think I fancy you, Ilia Zabini."

He swallowed, hard. Ilia didn't think he could feel any more euphoric after surviving a near-death experience on the Quidditch pitch, but this put it _way _over the top. "Can I tell you something, Lily Potter?" he breathed into her hair. "I think I may fancy you, too."

Lily pulled back, her face a mask of shocked surprise. "Really?" she squeaked.

"Indeed," he said, and then began to laugh as the joy splashed across Lily's face—it was just so comical. Lily joined in, and soon the ceiling of the Hospital Wing echoed their laughter to twice its volume.

As both Ilia and Lily found out that day, a well-kept secret is a very beautiful thing. But sometimes, it's even more lovely to break the silence around it.

FINIS


End file.
